Your Bipolar Friend

Sometimes I think being a Type 1 Bipolar would be better than a Type 2. That is not to take anything away from the seriousness and the impact of it. I’ve often heard Type 2 described as the milder version of the two because one does not ramp so high into mania. I find it hard to see it that way. I can’t really see either as being more mild than the other when it comes to the impact it has. They’re just different in how they affect the person.

Type 1’s ramp farther into the stratosphere and get lost further in their mania. They tend to have more extreme thinking which results in more blatant indicators. Shit like major hyper-sexuality, grandiose thinking, and destructive tendencies come to bear a lot stronger as a Type 1.

Type 2 is more insidious. I spend most of my waking time constantly reviewing, and re-reviewing my moods and how I’m feeling to attempt to intercept any potential swings. My escalations tends to be far more subtle and I may not realize I’m making ridiculously bad decisions until weeks into the swing. They are usually so subtle that other people don’t realize it either until I’m apologizing for doing something.

As such, Rome can be burning all around me for weeks before I realize it’s going to all be ash soon. Would that be as strong of a problem if when I ramped manic I thought I had to get out of jail to play guitar for Charo after stalking my ex-wife and hitting a nurse with a car while escaping from her work place like one unfortunate individual I’ve been told of? That exact circumstance happened to a Type 1 when he decided he no longer needed his mood stabilizer.

Have I been that far gone as a Type 2? No, but close. Paranoia is a big problem when I start to escalate. There’s been a couple times where I ended up wandering around outside carrying around a butcher knife or cleaver looking for whoever I was sure I saw looking in the window. But of course, no one was there. I like to think that I wouldn’t have just attacked anyone had I come across; but I can’t really be sure of that. And people wonder why I constantly refer to my brain as a separate entity that is working against me.

No real point to this post I guess. Just shit I’ve been thinking about.

“Somewhere in the middle of my mind is a nigga on a tight-rope screamin’ “Let him die!””
– Tupac Shakur, Letter to the President

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Truth in reality is an annoying concept to deal with as a Bipolar. Some individuals find me difficult to deal with because I have virtually zero acceptance of opinions, unless that person has proved to be competent in the past. Even then, I still have difficulties accepting what they are saying as “truth” or anything other than opinion. Being Bipolar has largely grown this mentality.

The reason being is that the essence of being Bipolar and the reason it is a disability is because you start getting reality confused. Truth takes on different meanings and views. It follows in the same vein of two people looking at a dark blue shirt. One might see dark blue, one might see black. It is their perception that is different. Light in the air or defects in the eyes can be causing each of them to be interpreting it differently. Bipolar people tend to do this in many, many avenues in their life. Except for them, that dark blue shirt might appear yellow. But they -know- that shirt is yellow, not dark blue.

Things you love become things you hate, people you care for become people you despise, and things that are important can get warped into having the same value as dog shit. Being an overly logical person due to the high-end autism thing, I have found the best way for me to combat this in an unwell period is to cut away anything that could possibly be opinion. Everything. There is no opinion or shading on fact. The brain may try and twist it, warp it, and throw things on; but if I can keep in mind that those things are opinions being piled on to my fact then I can minimize their impact.

I’ve also done this through the use of writing myself notes. I’ve likened the Disorder to Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde a couple of times. In this case, I’m writing notes when I’m Dr. Jeckyll to remind Mr. Hyde that he’s fucking nuts and needs to not do anything erratic for the time being. If you’re having problems with disillusionment, this might help remind your unwell brain when it’s unwell. Something we don’t always get the opportunity for.

***

On a brief aside, I read a news story today about how mental health professionals are diagnosing fictional characters with their appropriate mental disorders (if their mannerisms fit them). The idea is to raise awareness and lift stigma on mental disorders by making them more relatable to by normals. I actually think this is a pretty good idea. I’ve been trying to figure out for years how to explain what it’s like being Bipolar to people that aren’t.

The couple of examples they mentioned is how the Joker has a distinct knowledge of realizing that what he is doing is wrong. Hence he would end up in jail not an actual asylum. Darth Vader was cited as having strong tendencies with Borderline Personality Disorder due to his actions through the movies and his youth.

I guess some psychiatrists have actually did some panel work at comic book conventions talking about different villains and heroes and their mentality. This was met with pretty favorable reception and at capacity audiences. Though some critics are saying its bad because people could start say, associating Borderline people as Darth Vaders. Which personally, I don’t think has a damned remote possibility of occurring. I don’t think anyone would be clinging that much to the idea to bother to promote the negative connotation. I think its far more likely that the people that were interested or garnered interest in it would remain so. And the people that weren’t would dismiss it to the back of their minds.

But hey, what do I know?

Nightfall
The darkest time arriving
Look into the mirror of madness
Drown in the chasm of sadness
– Norther “Norther”

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I have had a couple of inquiries about detecting things like depression and self-destructive tendencies. The signs are not as difficult to read as one might think, though not knowing what to look for complicates issues a lot.

It’s important to understand the difference between depression and sadness. I’ve talked about it before so I’ll just briefly touch on it for the sake of cohesiveness. Being sad is within the normal range of emotion for an average individual. When you are in a deep depression, you are unable to feel sadness. Some of the byproducts are the same. Weeping, discomfort, and so forth. They tend to be more invasive to the person suffering through it however. Sadness passes, usually within a few hours. Or even if you’re mourning the loss of something dear to you it might last for days, maybe weeks.

Depression is a constant low. It doesn’t pass. It can last weeks, months, sometimes years depending on how bad it is. But why is this?

Misconception 1: Your life is great, what do you have to be depressed about?
Reality: Depression is the result of problems with the brain. Any number of things can cause it. It doesn’t matter how great your life is, how you perceive it to be, or how others are perceiving it. To those that have not been depressed; think of it this way. When you get a cold or a flu, how do you feel? Do you feel upbeat, cheerful and happy? Or do you feel nasty, tired, weak, drained, and miserable? This is in the same venue. A cold or the flu is a physical reason that has an effect on your mentality. Depression is the result of a physical reason, usually in chemical balances in the brain, of being off. Just minus sore throats, coughs, and runny noses.

Misconception 2: Snap out of it! You’re stronger than this!
Reality: This is an interesting line of thinking. Why not tell a diabetic to start spontaneously producing insulin? Or a cancer patient to spontaneously shrink their malignant tumors? It is the exact same thing. Depression is the result of a physical issue that is having an effect on mentality.

Misconception 3: Everyone’s brain is different, there is no such thing as normal!
Reality: I really despise this sentiment. It shows a complete lack of understanding of the mentality of the person they are talking to. Speaking from experience, if I didn’t have hope that my future mindset would have been different than the last twelve years, I would’ve made sure I had killed myself by now. Tens of thousands of people a year feel exactly the same way, only they succeeded where I did not in the past. So how good of an idea is suggesting that their current mental state is the only one that they have to look forward to by it being their “normal”? There are plenty of other words to describe it, but normal is the one most thrown around. I generally refer to the Well Mind and Unwell Mind. Which is Bipolar-oriented terminology but is still fairly relevant to depressives.

Alright, so what are some indicators that someone is depressed versus a bad day or sadness?
1. Lack of joy in things they once took joy in. Did the person used to enjoy reading books but suddenly stopped and never touched one again? Did they enjoy going out to the movies but completely stopped for no inexplicable reason? A complete and total loss in being able to derive pleasure out of anything is a major indicator. This does include sexuality as well.

2. Distant and detached. Did you ever notice how when you ask someone how they are, the response you get 95% of the time is “Fine?”. This neutral response is ingrained in us by the need to be socially acceptable. It’s not okay to have bad days, or feel off, or be unwell, or whatever the hell else. No, we must not rock the boat. You will hear fine from a depressed individual often. Very, very often. When you’ve been depressed for a long time and think it is your normal mental state, how you are supposed to be; you get used to deflecting questions that reveal your true thoughts because hey.. would anyone understand? A whole lot of people do, but since we all answer “Fine”; how are we to ever know that? Just for fun sometime, after you ask how someone is and get a response of fine. After you’ve been talking for a few minutes and they are more disarmed, simply ask them how they are doing again. Many, many times you will get a different answer.

On a side note, when I wake up in the morning my first thought isn’t “God damnit, I woke up again”. I’m fucking great, thank you very much.

3. Distant and detached. Part 2. Striving to avoid human contact is a good indicator as well. Does a loved one spend all their time holed up by themselves? When presented with an opportunity to be in a group, do they slip out and head for a remote area of the proceeding? Not greeting with someone they know while passing is a good indicator as well. Inevitably, that individual will say “Hey how are ya!” And that individual will have to find a way to deflect it or white lie their way out of answering. You know what’s far easier than that after about the 300,000th time you’ve done it? Simply not acknowledging them. Then you become the asshole and no one bothers you.

The things I’ve listed above are geared for a normal looking at another individual. You will see a lot of depression check lists where they talk about things like excessive crying. Those lists are generally correct. But here’s the problem. Anyone that’s been depressed for a long time or is feeling vulnerable is going to be hiding that deeply away. I wept away my depressive tears by the time I was 19. Now, I can’t even cry when an appropriate time arises. No, just like many other individuals like me; my tears were hid away in the shower, the privacy of my room, or being drowned in alcohol or drugs. Looking for the tears of a depressed individual is a pointless endeavor.

Depression is emptiness and hopelessness, not sadness. Things like tears may result because of the loneliness or frustration; but chances are good you won’t ever see them.

It is important to stress that not everyone who is depressive is hopelessly suicidal. I speak from that aspect because it is the worst case scenario. The average adult can benefit from an antidepressant regimen three times in a normal lifetime. Just to kick the chemical levels back into a correct location. For people that suffer depression, they oftentimes don’t need to take medication for the rest of their life; if at all. Sometimes a change in diet, exercise, or any other natural things can ease depression and stimulate the brain.

This is why it is important to urge a depressed individual to visit a doctor or professional.

And on a side note, just because I hear it so often; if their response is: “I’m afraid to go. They might lock me up or something!”

That was an unfortunate methodology in the past that got blown out of proportion and perpetuated by Hollywood. The only way you are ever restrained against your will is if you are an immediate threat. If my case worker didn’t commit me for explaining in vivid detail about how I couldn’t stop thinking about nailing the fingers of my left hand to a wall with my right hand.. but how would I hold the fucking nails? in addition to several other morbidities, you aren’t going to get committed for being depressed.

I got far too good at hiding away what was wrong with me. That was part of the reason I went without diagnosis for so long. Sometimes I get angry or bitter about it. But then it always comes back to me, being angry and bitter serves no real point. I’m still here. I still have my life and the ability to make the last several years of self-imposed misery and emptiness worth something.

And that’s why when someone asks me how I’m doing, I tell them exactly how I feel. Because sometimes when I say, “I woke up today and didn’t feel like blowing my head off. It was fucking sweet.” Every so often I get a response of; “You’ve felt that way too, huh?” And I’m able to crack their shell.

That’s what makes all the strange looks and awkward glances worthwhile.

“Be real. Don’t tell people what they want to hear.” – Tupac Shakur

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I’m writing this today for the benefit of an individual starting her own journey on the path to recovery. Self-harm is an unfortunate byproduct of deep depression and bipolar cycling. Many of us have done it ourselves. The normals call cutters emos or somehow think those individuals are weak. In reality, it is a coping mechanism in extremity and a prelude to something that could be far worse. It doesn’t take a huge leap to go from self-harm to suicide.

That is not to say that everyone that self-harms is approaching suicidal, but the mindset is starting to take form. So, why do people self-harm? It boils down to a common misconception of depression that normals tend to have. Many, many people think that depression is a type of sadness that eventually passes. For those with Bipolar Disorder and Chronic Depression, it really is much more like feeling barely anything for long stretches of time. I’ve made a couple of comparisons to what deep depression is like, but it is difficult to express to those that haven’t experienced it. How do you explain what it’s like to feel nothing? To feel like an empty husk? To just not care, about anything? You know you should. You know there are reasons to care. You know there are people to love. But the depression strangles it all and kicks it straight in the balls until they’re paste.

Speaking from my own experience, when I started to self-harm it was because I was not sure if I could still feel anything other than the depression. There were a couple of times I took a stereotypical approach and just cut myself. I knew this would leave bad scars so it was something I tended to avoid. On the other hand, I knew what would not leave bad scars. That was first and second degree burns treated promptly. My own self-harm took the form of laying a steak knife on the coils of the stove until it discolored from the heat and tracing it on the flesh of my left shoulder. Drawing simple and straight lines of melted flesh. When you spend every waking moment of your time trying to figure out why you are incapable of anything more than bare whispers of feelings, a reprieve is a God-send. Did self-harm help? Not literally. All it did was give my brain something else to focus on. Hey, I can still feel pain! That has to be worth something! And when the euphoria and endorphins started to wear off, it was still a fresh burn! So all I had to do was slap it sharply and it would rocket my mind back into dealing with pain as opposed to depression. And that was much, much better. Physical pain was at least tangible and way the hell easier to deal with than depression for me.

And I know what normals are thinking, I’ve heard it over and over and over and over and over. ‘How can anyone be so selfish? How weak they must be!’

I hope that’ll be a consolation if a cutter in your life finally decides that they can’t deal with the emptiness at all anymore and they commit suicide. Self-harm is just one step on a road to self-destruction. Here’s a thought, instead of telling the individual what’s wrong with them; how about showing a bit of compassion and understanding? Contrary to what the media and Hollywood crams down our throats, the mentally ill are far more of a danger to themselves than they are to anyone else. Does it happen that these individuals lash out? Yes, it does. But not enough to warrant being overly terrified of it by trying to identify and help someone you care about.

Weak? Such an incorrect word. The last time I had that conversation I told the individual if he would like we can both sit down with our boxcutters and butcher ourselves until one of us couldn’t take anymore. All it elicited was a horrified look and a report to management. My response is, how weak is the individual that can’t subject themselves to a little pain? Those people have no right to cast stones at someone that is having a difficult time dealing with what’s going on in their head.

And this is where we link in to suicidal thinking. Many people make the mistake of thinking that suicide is about wanting to die. Or not deserving to live. Even if that is the stated reason it is rarely the case, it is the amplification of feelings brought on by the emptiness of depression. Suicide and self-harm are not about self-destruction. They are both extreme coping mechanisms. Self-harm is a starting step. An initial admission of being unable to shoulder what’s going on in one’s mind. Suicide is the final step. It is about wanting the emptiness and the pain to stop for good. Suicides do not happen over night. They have many precursors leading up to them. The unfortunate part is not enough normals actually know dick about it to help those they care about until it is too late.

And then we are left with people crying, “WHY!?!?!??!?!?!” Which irritates me. I know why. All the people around that person missed the signs they were heading in that direction. They missed the misery. They missed the self-destruction. Or they paid it little mind or thought it was “just a phase”. Now is that to say that I’m attempting to cast blame? No. I’m not. Because it doesn’t help. Blame won’t bring back someone you cared about. It does no fucking good to point the finger and say ‘You failed this person’. They already have to live with the knowledge they won’t be without their loved one.

What pisses me off to no end is the complete lack of understanding or even attempt to understand I see from these people. And being so open about my Disorder, I have heard plenty of suicide stories and other peoples’ struggles with mental illness. No, they were not being selfish. They struggled and fought for a long time up until that point. It is very, very rare for someone to just up and decide to kill themself. It takes time to reach that point.

Remember them fondly, and with love. They already suffered enough. And no, your suffering because of it does not mean much to me. They are dead. You are not. You have the ability to grow and learn. They no longer have that.

If you engage in self-harm or have someone you care about that does, don’t hide it away. Talk to a Doctor. Talk to someone you trust who can actually help you. Several help-lines exist and there are a myriad of tactics for dealing with that mentality when one’s mind is in turmoil. Self-harm is just one step on a very long road to self-destruction. It does not make you, or anyone else weak or incapable. It is a coping mechanism. Striving for a fix to that problem before it explodes can save everyone a lot of tears months or years down the road.

There are a lot of us that understand perfectly well what you are going through. We’re all around you. Most of us just don’t talk about it like we should.

“I. Hurt myself today. To see if I could feel.
I. Focus on the pain. The only thing, that’s real.
The needle tears a hole, that old familiar sting.
Tried to kill it all away, but I remember.. everything.”
-Nine Inch Nails, “Hurt”

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I apologize for having not written for awhile. Just wasn’t feeling it for a bit there and had some stuff going on IRL including some independant free lance writing for money. WOO. Anyways, I think today I’m going to talk about having two brains.

I have often stated that my brain makes decisions without me, not necessarily in this forum but in life in general. That is an allusion to the Bipolar mental state. When apologizing to those I’ve wronged, I’ve been accused of being nonsensical and not being genuine in my apology. I remember when I was younger and used to have to be forced to apologize to others when I had done something wrong. Rather than being shown why what I had done was wrong and allowing myself to come to the natural conclusion that I should apologize. That stuck with me for a long time. I don’t apologize for shit unless I’m genuinely sorry, and if that’s not good enough for the person being apologized to; fuck it. Life will go on either way. Is it unfortunate? Yes. Does it suck? Yes. Can I do shit about it? If I could I wouldn’t have done it in the first place, hence the apology.

That’s another big reason I don’t like telling people what they want to hear. Or giving false praise. Because then when I have a genuine compliment or genuine constructive criticism then I feel it has less weight. I know it does on my end. It’s not hard to tell the difference between false and genuine praise. I’d rather be respected than liked. If I’m liked, fine. And no, they do not go hand in hand. I’ve liked plenty of people I’ve had little respect for.

When dealing with the Bipolar mental state, it is important to figure out who you are as opposed to who your Bipolar self is. Because they are completely different people, in the style of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. Understanding the different brains that dwell in yours, I feel, is paramount in identifying unwell periods and well ones. So let me show you what I mean.

Me When Well:
I care about other people and have compassion for those that are struggling. I’ve bought a couple sandwiches with my last couple dollars and sat down with a homeless man to have lunch next to him on the pavement. I’ve gone far out of my way to offer some consolation to someone I didn’t know for some reason I don’t remember. And no matter the person or circumstance, I strive to not judge those that try and confide in me.

When I’m Unwell:
Fuck you. I have my own fucking problems. I’d like to kick your fucking face off the pavement until it caves in. No one gives a shit about my problems why the fuck should I give a shit about yours? You’re pathetic and worthless, not worthy of my time. Get the fuck away from me.

This is an example of the stark difference in mentality that drives a Bipolar individual. So, consider this in general living and you can start to see why it makes it so difficult to maintain friendships, relationships, employment, and so forth. So here is some examples from my own experiences.

Q. Can we spend some together?
Well Answer: Of course. C’mon over here. I love you.
Unwell Answer: Don’t talk to me, don’t touch me.

Q. Can you help me with this?
Well Answer: Sure thing. Everyone needs some help once in awhile.
Unwell Answer: Do it yourself. Am I slave labor? You’re getting paid the same amount I am.

Q. Why can’t you be more understanding?
Well Answer: I try to be as much as I can be. But I am human and prone to my own prejudices and opinions, you know?
Unwell Answer: Because you’re too fucking stupid to make a point worth bothering to understand.

Now, these are rather stark examples. Sometimes the way the disorder affects your decision making process is much more subtle. To the point that you can’t even tell until its far too late. Because whether I’m giving you a well or an unwell answer, my expression is generally the same. What’s going on in my head is drastically different. Jeckyll, and Hyde. Sometimes I can realize when my thought patterns are fucked because I have certain dispositions I only have when unwell as opposed to well.

Unwell: No patience or tolerance for mistakes in myself or others. Inability to connect thoughts together or connecting them together in very abstract ways. Fuse basically disappears. Very combative. Very arrogant. And the filter between my brain and mouth disappears altogether.

When I’m well, I’m really none of those things. So I know, if I start feeling too good about how “great I am”, its time to start analyzing my thought processes to hopefully derail a bad manic period. Because a bad manic period means answers and responses in the Unwell category above to everyone and anyone. Actually a good example just occurred to me that I can cite.

My family are a group of people that show affection by screwing with each other. At one point; myself, my brother, and some of his friends were hanging around and we were tossing insults back and forth along with my mother. Though I was trying to keep more out of it because I wasn’t feeling “right” at the time. At any rate, she made a couple of comments and I retorted with “At least my parents’ loved me enough to keep me when I wasn’t expected.” My mother was adopted (and on a side note recently found her mother, hello Grandma Wilma if you’re reading through all my profanity). Now, when I say that when you get unwell that there is no filter between your brain and your mouth? This is what I mean. I would never, under any circumstances, hammer that hard at something that was so obviously personal that could have a very drastic effect on self-esteem and mentality in someone I cared about. An enemy? Sure. My mother? Fifteen minutes later my brain was screaming “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING DUMBASS?!” Which, while it wasn’t exactly a positive experience forced my brain into crash mode from my hypomania. Which was, sorta good. I guess. Prevented me from ramping further up. And of course I apologized but I still felt like shit about it for about a week after.

And I felt bad about it because it was confusing as it really was a Jeckyll and Hyde moment. But it’s one of those things that I look back on and I really had no choice of what came out of my mouth. It just, did. So what can I really do in that circumstance? Apologize, try and ensure it doesn’t happen again, and move on. Because nothing will change it.

On the plus side, having things like this occur has helped me deal with the present a lot easier. I made a shitty decision, I apologize to the people I wronged, if they don’t want to accept it; fuck it. Life goes on. Or they do, and again; life goes on. Because of it I also developed the ability to make bad decisions. I mean really, what’s the worst that can happen? If I’m not dead there’s always still hope to fix it. It’s far better to make a decision and fall flat on your face than to make no decision at all. Besides, most of the things I’ve learned in life that I genuinely hold onto I’ve learned by fucking up colossally.

Because hey, that’s just how it goes.

“I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy I’m just a little impaired
I know, right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be.”
-Matchbox 20, Unwell

And I think I already quoted that once before but it is very accurate to me.

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Today I’m going to delve a bit into the darker side of Bipolar Disorder. There are a few different types of Bipolars. A Type 1 can escalate far into mania. A Type 2 will escalate but won’t hit the same highs as a Type 1. And Cyclothemic has mood shifts but they are not as potent as Type 2. One of the most difficult parts of trying to express what this disorder is like is attempting to make people understand completely different states of mind. Frankly it is a difficult situation for everyone involved. I’ve also talked to a few individuals that were given a diagnosis but insist that it couldn’t possibly be it.

The problem with the extremes of the Disorder is that it seems normal to the person suffering from it. I mentioned before that the Disorder was a lot like the story of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. It is. One’s Bipolar personality can be drastically different from their well personality. So while you’re talking to me, having fun with me now, enjoying a conversation, watching me have normal interactions; Mr. Hyde is always beneath the surface. And it will be spurred on by about anything. Seriously; anything.

When I was living with my ex-Fiancee and we watched the movie Unbreakable together; there featured a home invasion where the perpetrator killed the father, brutalized and raped the mother, and bound the kids in a closet with wire. After I watched this, my brain kicked into hypomanic overdrive. Bound and determined to ensure such a thing would never happen to her. For three months I could not sleep at the same time as her. We’d go to bed together, and I would lay in bed curled around her with my cheek on her shoulder staring at the crossway waiting for someone to come in. I would lay there all night and would not be able to fall asleep until almost dawn when she was getting up and ready for her day. Then I would go to sleep for about six hours because I didn’t really care about myself so I did not worry for myself. I was unable to realize how I was acting because my brain kept convincing me it was normal. Since I never talked to anyone about those sorts of things it was impossible for me to get a sane perspective on my behavior. If someone had broken in while my mind was unwell and riddled with sleep-depraved paranoia someone would have ended up in a box, either me or that individual.

One of the worst depressive cycles I had was spurred on by something as innocent as watching a small boy hug a plastic Santa with this broad, loving grin on his face. It basically kicked every feeling I had towards my son into my face and sent me on a three week spiral where I could not stop thinking about sucking off a shotgun. I have known about my little boy for a long time though his mother and I live apart. I had a lot of guilt towards not being around for him. Often when I discussed it I’d hear the same tired remarks, “Well if I was in your position I would find a way.” “He’ll have more problems if you’re not around!”

Oh, really? More problems hm? Have you ever once heard of ANY good parenting tales of being raised by a mentally unwell individual? Well let’s see. I’ve heard of being whipped raw with extension cords, locked in closets, beaten, hand put onto stove to teach a lesson, as well as any other number of horrific things no child should have to grow up through. I had already done some pretty terrible things to other people while in the darkest recesses of my swings. Destroyed lives, cost them money and happiness, and shredded apart anything beautiful that dared to be happy around me.

How would my brain react to being around a happy, energetic child all the time? I was already supressing suicidal urges about 18 hours a day. Nothing felt more glorious than to make someone feel just like I did. So I kept my distance and kept striving to figure out what the hell was going on in my brain. There are some that felt I should I should feel bad about this. There are others who think I’m a cold, callous individual because of it. Yet they fail to realize just how bad the alternative could have been. Why? Because they do not fight the same war in their mind as any Bipolar individual does.

Striving, scraping, dragging oneself continually away from the abyss is a 24/7 endeavor. Am I happy about some of the choices I’ve had to make in life? Not in the slightest. But I would not change any of it either. Adversity breeds wisdom and understanding that one would otherwise not have had they not known the more horrific sides of life, be it in their own mind or fighting for your life because you turned down the wrong alley. I’m still here though where many others have not had that same benefit. I’m glad I am. Because with what I know now I’m able to give other people the tools and understanding they need to reclaim their own existence.

“I don’t wanna live no mo’,
sometimes I hear death knockin’ at my front door,
I’m livin’ every day like a hustle;
another drug to juggle,
Another day, another struggle.”
-Notorious BIG, Another Struggle

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Periodically I long for the times when things used to genuinely bother me like they would a normal person. Several people have heard me say that I feel I’m logical to a fault. I have an extraordinarily difficult time dealing with things that do not make logical sense to me even if I know them to be untrue or incorrect. Part of that is looking at something in life or the world and deducing that there is nothing I can do about it. After which, it is slid straight into the back of my mind until it either comes to fruition or I am able to affect it.

A very good instance of that is when my ex-Fiancee wanted to leave me so that she could pursue law school and be her own independant woman for awhile. I wasn’t able to get angry, or upset, or anything of the sort. I was only able to feel proud of her for being able to make a difficult decision and see it through. And logically I’ve always felt that it would never be a good to have someone I had wanted to spend my life with be able to look across the table at me in ten years and think of what they had to give up for me. The reality is I’m a maladjusted bipolar who ended up dragging others with me through it unwittingly. So it seemed completely unreasonable and illogical for me to be the slightest bit angry or unsupportive of that. This I know others have not been able to understand. Unfortunately doing the right thing rarely ever seems to go hand in hand with things being easy.

I’ve also found ways to make this methodology work for me. In times when I didn’t feel I could keep going forward, I reminded myself of horrific things that others have traversed through. And that made it far easier for me to supress suicidal ideation and sometimes homicidal ideation. On the flip side of the coin, it makes it extremely difficult for me to feign the slightest bit of pity for people with petty problems.

I remember I pissed someone off I used to work with at Wal-Mart years ago while I was a cashier. She was complaining about having to work busy lanes and kept complaining about how unfair it was. When she finally prompted me for an answer I replied with, “There are people that don’t even have money for basic utilities and a meal every other day in this country. And you’re complaining because you have a job? If you hate it so much, find another one.” Which I wasn’t attempting to shock her or put her in place or anything of the sort. I just had vivid memory of what I saw when I lived in Detroit.

I think I learned my most valuable life lessons there. No matter how bad it is, it can always be way the hell worse. WAY the hell worse. Since I was a youngin’ I had always been very attracted to the older style rap music. For a long time I couldn’t really figure out why that was. I wasn’t a wigger, nor did I want to be. But once I moved to Detroit and actually saw what they were talking about, it was far easier for me to figure it out later. My skin wasn’t black but I certainly understood what it felt like to feel isolated and hopeless. Which is an incredibly shitty feeling when you are around people that care about you.

But logically, that feeling doesn’t matter. Because no matter how bad I may feel, I’m not dead. Which meant it could be changed and worked towards. And logically I could not discard that information in favor of wallowing in self-pity.

If that makes me a callous asshole, well then I’m a callous asshole. I see no reason to waste time on petty, stupid bullshit.

“I smoke a blunt to take the pain out
and if I wasn’t high prolly try to blow my brains out,
I’m hopeless.
They should’ve killed me as a baby,
Now they got me trapped in this storm, I’m going crazy.”
– Tupac Shakur, ‘Lord Knows’

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I recently found out that my casefile for my Social Security application had basically been sitting on someone’s desk for the last two years full of blank information. Hooray for government competency. Not as though I needed assistance or medical care or anything of the sort in the past three years since I initially applied. No sir, not at all.

The unfortunate part is it’s just as much my own fault. I knew that cases can take a long time to work through and it never occured to me to call to find out what was going on with my latest appeal. I made an assumption that things were on the correct course, and that is never a good thing to do I’ve found. On the upside, at least I’ll get a back award if/when they ever finally approve my claim. I also intend to move into the career path of Peer Specialist. And if I’m on SSI they will cover the cost of the training for that as well as part of a back to work initiative. I can’t really say everything hinges on it, since I’ve gone this long without it as it is. If I get to the end of my claims process and can’t win my case, I’ll just have to find a different way. Though I never really expected to win anyways, that’s just how I view things.

On a side note, while I’m irritated with their general handling of the situation the case worker I dealt with was at least sympathetic and notably irritated with her co-worker’s incompetence as well. So many people are quick to dismiss the government entities as nameless, faceless institutions. But I do have to say that all of the people I have dealt with in the tenure of attempting to win my SSI claim have been very helpful and assisting. Mostly it boils down to having to prove how one’s disorder affects their general living. Doing that effectively is oftentimes the problem.

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